Troughs and Peaks
by Aenigmatic
Summary: Vignette: After the mob, Christine lets go of Raoul to go back to her dark angel. But...what if he rejects her? Please read ;-) (Yes, typical shipper fic!)


**Troughs and Peaks **

**Author's Note:**

_Dear all,  
A mere vignette here, not big nor original on plot at all and more of a character sketch than anything; I don't quite have the courage yet to write an emotionally exhausting novel length piecebut I know I can't be kept away for long. Perhaps soon! But I'm itching to pen something down (so there!) after that bout of excessive phantom reading! ;-). It's a mish-mash of the musical and Susan Kay's novel by the way, with hopefully no confusing timelines etc, plain, highly dramatic and straightforward. _

**Disclaimer:**  
_I just thought it'd be wise if I added something here - the interpretation of the characters from Kay and Leroux is nevertheless entirely mine; the Christine that I've chosen to portray is in my opinion, one almost as intriguing as Erik himself, not entirely too simplistic and lacking in understanding as in Leroux, taking into account that she is a changed character by the time we are at the end of her interactions with Erik, matured and perspicacious enough to know about subtle power plays and domination, but still no match for the master of these dynamics himself. _

_Maybe some people think I'm giving her too much credit? ;-p_

_And as for Erik, what can I say? The paradox of humanity probably lies within him and he is probably the most heart wrenching of all to write. But he is also a victim when he tries to be a master and this charged, bizarre relationship unlike any other can't fail but bring everything that must be named in superlatives: utter destruction, blinding glory, the deepest violence, overwrought passion -all in peaks and troughs, a cycle that will not end until death. _

_Premise for the story: What if a contrite Christine decides to return to the Opera after the incident with the mob and only finds that Erik rejects her? We see them move through the different stages of their relationship -Teacher/Student, Angel/Mortal, Father/Child and finally, as lovers. All in one conversation that ambitiously tries to capture these facets! Heehee-)_

_Without further ado and spoilers, here we go!_

_Please read and comment! ;-) Your feedback is so needed.   
Or drop me a note as you wish: vesania@gmx.net_

_**********_

_Christine -_

Raoul had tugged at my hand, gently at first, and the pressure in his squeeze that was his insistence grew with my stubborn refusal to move any farther than I had intended. 

"Christine!" His eyes held an unconcealed urgency and a vaguely repressed hysteria and I thought, in that singular moment, that perhaps he was not far removed from the monstrosity and dementia that he had just accused another of. I know not how long I had stood there, rendered immobilised by a sharp, grating grief that bordered on madness, yet intensely comforted by the knowledge that this was the first of the deep emotions that had coursed through my dark Angel which I took perverse triumph in experiencing, as if each splinter of the destructive guilt and dark emotions might take me captive too as they had taken him captive, bringing me closer into his breathtaking and overwhelming realm, until I was completely swallowed by the shadows. 

But I needed the constant reminder that there was no Angel, no Ghost, only Erik! I watched with no small measure of _petite_ anger and pain by which the mob had desecrated that formerly pristine lair, now receded, like that mythical dragon that withdrew its scorching flames temporarily, and with the greatest relief I slumped slightly at the other end of the subterranean lake, adrenaline and tension briefly diminished. They had not found him, and their faces showed bewilderment and frustration at the elusive, surreal Ghost that they had endured for long yet unable to capture. 

Know that your greatest moment of triumph is also your moment of defeat, Erik had both contemptuously and languidedly remarked before, and once more I took more bitter pride in remembering all that he had let fall from his lips during our time together, that obedient pupil who only learnt from and treasured the true glimpses of the master after his utter fall from grace, uncannily assuming the behaviour that Erik might have exhibited. 

"I need to return to him, Raoul." The line was delivered flatly, almost expressionlessly, the tiring night grating on my nerves so badly that the solace I took was the withdrawal into the self. 

_That child you knew, Raoul, the scarf and Little Lotte is no more._

His eyes had grown wide in disbelief, distended from sleeplessness and in their worry; the slight twinge of guilt that poked me in the heart for his suffering was almost negligible to the ever-present ache that already throbbed for someone else. The change in his face was altogether unsubtle, and the thoughts that ran through his head were as clear as the daylight that could only wish to penetrate this labyrinth. He embarked on the search for a denial, which he thought had proudly sculpted and owned Christine Daae's face

Erik had been more in me than I wanted to admit and I rode that peculiar mixed spirit of ill-leashed passion, glittering stubbornness, and understated calm with relish and I wondered dimly if he merely saw that reflected in the unforgettable cerulean silver of Erik's eyes staring back at him. 

_How could you go back to thiscreature, this pitiful creature of darkness whom you have named yourself? Does my presence mean nothing to you? Should you not speak a thousand 'Hail Mary's for the relief that should rightfully flood your face that I had rescued you as I had your red-scarf? _

I saw his hand advance towards me, swiftly, and the blackness in this labyrinth became complete, no longer sensual as it had been always with Erik, but threatening and ominous as the noise from the mob faded out. 

**********

It seemed as if I awoke, choked in luxury with the single breath, and the sudden seizure of coughs from the parched dry throat forced me back on my bed, and it was only then I allowed myself to take in the glorious furnishings that the de Chagny manor prided itself upon. There was much to savour visually, the rich colours that turned garish after I fixed my unaccustomed eye on them too long.

But a finely carved piece of glass was held near my lips gently, willing me to drink and I sipped gratefully before turning my face towards the helpful hand. 

"How are you feeling?" It was Raoul, his promised faithfulness towards me moving, yet also sickening me, for it meant the demise of hope, the falling from the edge of a suspected heaven into the lifestyle of French nobility. 

"What did you do, Raoul?" My mere whisper seemed to lick the air surrounding us, and a guilty look appeared on his face. 

"You collapsed, Christine. No doubt from exhaustion, from the hell that the monster put you through!" His fists were clenched, yet his assumption of the position of my protector suddenly seemed ridiculous and absurd, as I found myself comparing all that was him to the Angel who had brought me dreams conceived in darkness and seduction borne of desperation, all of which transcending far more abundantly the purest, innocent love that Raoul offered. It had made me discontent, and how slow I was, to discover this loss! Erik, in his bitterness and scorn, would have laughed at my fickle change of heart, and I mourned bleakly, now, in the ordinary light of day, for his damaged soul which I had childishly destroyed. 

"Had I really collapsed, Raoul?" The quick accusation was unfounded, yet a comforting release from the pent-up energies of grief and dismay that I had tardily accumulated. 

"My fragile Christine" He breathed, stroking my hair the way a guardian protected his charge, fingering my cheek softly and intimately as a lover would. He moved his fingers lightly to the back of my head and I cried out involuntarily at the tender, sore spot which screamed its protest at the slightest pressure. "You were hurt, Christine, when you collapsed"

But I shrugged his attentions carelessly, the same actions that had cruelly spurned Erik now acted on someone else, the ring of destruction that I had woven around myself and those around me, for which I knew my own punishment was overdue. 

"Do not _lie_ to me, Raoul!" 

He pulled back, shocked at the outburst, at the vulgar nuance.

"Christine"

"I was not in hysterics when I asked you to let me go back to him! But you so clearly thought I was -" I had risen from the bed unsteadily, turning to the window blindly, flinching at the sudden spurt of vertigo. 

"Christine, you were clearly upset and unthinking!" He stood as well, and tried to reason, his palms splayed out, an action that was as good as a reluctant admission. "You were not in your right mind, and the angry mob was near unstoppableLord, Christine, wouldn't you see reason? It was for your safety! That monster, apparently knew it too! He told you to come away with me! I forbade your returning, and rightly so!"

"Presumptuous, Raoul!" I shouted in despair! 

"How else would you have me act? To return you to the hands of the mob who might think you were in cahoots with the ghost? Or to place you in between the teeth of that deranged monster who perhaps regained a moment's sanity to let you live a normal life with me?"

"And the underhanded blow to my head was a result of your noble assumption? Even when I had clearly said I needed to return?" I challenged, irrationally incensed at the liberty I thought he had taken, tearful at my own decision.

He raked a hand over his hair in annoyance, and rounded back on my own irritation.

"What is with you, Christine, that you now spurn all that I hoped was a measure of goodwill that has been shown to you? By both me and that monster! What is with this behaviour that I now cannot understand? Is this sometwisted epiphany that has overtaken you in the wake of that ghost which -" 

Yet his outburst was unmagnificentI wanted to snort in derision It was escalating, quickly into a verbal scuffle that was completely unreasonable of me, but his temper was never a match for Erik's spectacularly lightning-filled displays, and I found myself gaining strength as I bore down on him. 

"Does it insult your noble tongue, Raoul, to use his given name - _Erik_, not monster!" I expelled the pronunciation feverishly the two syllables that were his name as it was, rolling off my tongue, as bittersweet water would have. "_Erik_!"

"So this it what it is all about, Christine." His voice had turned soft, but not dangerous, almost weary. "Is your heart truly so fickle, that you made me promise a lifetime of love and summertime, and so quickly crave the darkness of that deranged existence when you see your ghastly angel again?" His anger was quick to inflate and deflate.

Raoul had, with unwavering insight, pierced the dilemma that stirred restlessly within, but he had also stirred the anger that concealed guilt associated with it, and all I wanted to do was deny his truthful accusation, but that sudden burst of tension had made me small again, the child who was now lost.

"You do not then trust me to have a mind of my own?" 

"Little Lotte. My fragile Lotte, who begs a protector" He murmured into my hair, encircling me in his innocent embrace. "Let me now be your shelter, the step back into peaceful days and happinesswe can put these days behind us"

I was broken, in his arms as I listened to his castles in the clouds, knowing that back-pedalling would merely mean living the life of unwarranted deception, in which all we needed was the daily dose of convincing that life continued as if I had never stepped foot into the Paris Opera. I did not want that deception; I wanted instead the heady rush of pleasures that came from that deep mystery that was nevertheless Erik, and the thrill of being absorbed by his presence!

"No, Raoul." I clung to his shirtfront, crying softly. "You have to let me go back." 

"_What_?" I saw the familiar anger and annoyance descend, but all that was left of me was the well of sadness, for his broken dreams and plans, my shattered insulation and Erik's broken, irreparable soul. 

"I am returning to Paris, Raoul." 

He sighed and pulled away from me, and I was suddenly awkward without that supporting pillar of strength. And if he saw me stumble forward slightly, he made no move to return to my side.

"I will ask for your belongings to be readied within the hour, if you wish." 

Relief added onto the paleness of my face, as I thanked him tentatively. 

"Have it your way, Christine, now that you wish to stand on your own," He said flatly. "But do not toy anymore because I am learning now," He laughed curtly, bitterly, "From you of all people, that forgiveness does not come easy the second time." 

I had not known that Raoul's words foreshadowed what was to follow, in the tremulous and trembling delight I took in dreaming of the happiness that I might finally bring to Erik as the carriage neared the capital.

**********

The Opera house stood silhouetted in the heavy Parisian fog, without the frilly accompaniment of gaudily dressed nobles milling about in the orange dusk, as if the confusion and madness of last night had taken its toll, and I found its doors firmly shut with nary a soul about. Undaunted, I made my way to the Rue Scribe entrance, mindless of the darkness that enveloped me completely as the door shut tightly, chilled from the damp air and apprehensive of the meeting that I knew was to follow. 

It was the darkness, you see, having thought of it with overstated bravado, which never failed to overwhelm me again when I was thrust into it now, along with the consumptive uncertainty of this loyalty test that I was now putting myself through. For good measure I glanced back up at the torch that I had hastily lit, proceeding down towards that lake. All was still in that labyrinth, the lazily flapping water betraying no sign of the madness that had ensued just hours before, as I placed my footing on the slight indentations that had been faintly carved out by the sewer rats. 

Erik's boat was placed in the same awkward position as Raoul had left it, the long pole broken in two; my clumsy and hurried attempts to bring the boat to the other side was nonetheless the same surrendering journey into that breathless wonderland as my mounting fear and longing merged into the exquisite, hellish realm that was exclusively Erik's, which drew and gave all emotions freely as they were, unadulterated and raw.

"Mademoiselle Daae. I heard the water give." Said a quiet voice in heavily accented French.

It was the precocious, loyal Persian - Nadir Khan, who stood at the entrance of the house with narrowed eyes, the appointed guard of Erik this day. 

"Please," I implored, mincing no words. "Let me see him." 

"Have you not caused enough damage, Mademoiselle Daae," He questioned coldly. "He may be a mere object that youcasually deal with, but I might remind you that Erik is also my friend, worthy of someone's care in the very least." 

"Monsieurplease do not doubt meI returned to see himto tell him"

For a long time we stared at each other, he unwavering, and me unmoving in my confusing flashes of grief, defensiveness and hope.

"I would use bodily force if I wouldbut he would not have refused you," the Persian conceded finally, stepping aside to allow my entry. "Erik is asleepthere was," he admitted, "he suffered an attack after the mob receded without finding him." 

_Dear god_

He must have seen my stricken expression, and I saw his face soften. 

"Mademoiselle, do not break him any further. I do not know how much he can handleI would like to have him as a friend for a long time" He murmured that quiet command before he slipped away, busying himself with the mundane task of tidying what the mob had destroyed and scattered, leaving the house quietly. 

Had he not understood that I was finally ready to lay aside childish pranks, the irrational anger at the turbulent months with Erik had already exhausted itselfbut that look on his face, nameless, told me that he knew, and the tinge of sadness warned me that I might have returned too late.

Enough time was wastedI needed those wings that he gave me, this time to fly back to him

I could not find him lying in his room, all darkness emptying out of itself and devoid of his electrifying presence but saw him slumped in the armchair in his music room, facing the fire with his back turned. How fitting it seemed then, that he foresaw his own grave with music, that obedient servant and controllable master which had only turned its back on him in betrayal when we both walked down the irreversible path the moment I had sobbed that lifetime ago, for an angel of music. 

And then I heard him sing softly to himself - surely he was aware of my presence - nothing escapes his trained nor his extraordinary ears! That melody that stopped even the Persian in whatever he was attempting to salvage, the unholy, heathen and grievous tune that had captured me in his mirror and most likely the same tune that evoked the past only as splinted memories. It was again a lilting manipulation and we both knew that I capitulated easily, drugged by his music; he had written about the point of no return in Don Juan Triumphant; I had sung it with fervour yet we had scarcely believed it ourselves, he thinking I was unable to pass the point where I trod down his only shield and defence that was music, and I, thinking foolishly then that his point of no return meant certain death for my soul. Neither could I bear to see that barely contained grief in him and he not knowing that the same emotion was as large in me as it was in him. 

He turned, finally, stones and hate in his eyes; he was still weak, but I was infinitely gladdened to see a spark of something rekindle in those eyes of his - even if it were coldness and hostility for such meant that he was not yet indifferent to me!

**********

_Erik -_

Oh Christine!  
Why had she returned? If she really had returned for me, then perhaps I had not known her as transparently as I thought, that weak child she always was, weaker in her decisions than I had hopedI had heard her approach, but surely we were past all points of make-believe! I heard her uneven breaths, the shimmering world that conjured itself when my music overtook her -had I really wanted her to come to me ringed again with this damnable, underhanded web of deception until we dropped into that cavernous hole of nothingness? It had made me the lesser man, fulfilling that monstrosity already apparent on my face! 

Brutal honesty, had that not always worked? Quick as lightning, hard as a guillotine's fall, sparing no mercy. 

"Child," I sighed, effortlessly breaking that musical deceit. "There is nothing left here, nothingreturn to your Vicomte, go." 

She could not, it seemed, _would not_, bear that gentle reprimand and the resignation that was in my voice, and in that great flurry of skirts, hurried to the side of my armchair, kneeling, beseeching. 

"ErikNadir said you had been unwell and I wanted to know" She faltered, her resolution breaking and I found myself unfamiliarly irritated with that verbal clumsiness that assailed her, tired of her ploys and schemes, the endless flitting that begged for a stop, unable - _unwilling_ to stop that deadly spiral into that blind, boiling fury despite that residual, physical weakness. 

"You have seen with your eyes, child, that I am quite capable of remaining alive as I wish it. Death is unwillingly my friend, but does not come to me as easily as I thoughtmaybe even he is repulsed by me? Nowhave I sufficiently satisfied your curiosity? If I have, then by all means usher yourself to the exitI'm sure Nadir will be more than willing." 

"I returned, Erikto see you, do you not think that I wanted to return?" She raised her palms helplessly for me to see, perhaps a gesture of supplication even, of surrender.

"Why?" I threw all power into that single word, and cursed myself as she shied away, instinctively from my gaze. "To ensure your Vicomte remains safe? To safeguard that wealth of his by becoming that martyr, a sacrifice whose death profits nobody? Have you such little trust in me when I promised to free you and that boydid you not trust my promise that I would never stain your future happiness?"

Christine was trembling, kneeling; it was far more than where I had always wanted her to be, I knew I should be grateful, but this stink of pride now refused to grovelwhy weren't we _ever_ able to speak without tears?

"Erikwouldn't you hear me out?" She raised her face to mine, that quiet tone silencing me into momentary contriteness. 

"Why darling, of course. Your lovely mouth is yours to command-" I gave her a grim smile, settling back into my chair with a flourish, tapping my fingers mockingly in waiting. "Speak away." 

"What must I doI am here, now how do I make you believe me - dear god, you wish me a beggar for your affections? Will you not give it again" She cried in anguish. "I would do anything you want, Erik"

"Reminiscent of what you earlier promised to save that boy, was it not, Christine?" I cut her off smoothly, "Do not think that I am unaware, my dear, of the pawn that you have made me in this foolish experiment of yours."

"Ex..Experiment?" 

"Yes! Don't you understand, you foolish child!" It was that black, unforgiving rage that rolled over me, and I found the need to pace the ruined floor in savage steps, slowly and deliberately, circling her frozen position. "You think that by coming back to me is proof of your loyalty, but I understand you enough, Christine, to wonder what really will happen when you decide once more you tire of a prowling life of darkness! Clearly, the point of no return is too complex for you to understandmaybe the only way you have decided to survive is through the adulterous, heartless movements that you blithely name as indecision!" 

"Erik, I do not understand" She heard my whispered oath and started. 

Christine, had I all the riches in the world, they would not have sufficed to wipe those tears from your face, to remedy that poison that I dripped into you when I first sang through the mirrorHow was I do be a master of myself when all that was beautiful and ugly demanded their damned release at the sight of her?   


I stopped abruptly, and advanced towards her, unhurriedly, until we sat curled on the floor merely inches apart, pausing to move my hand through the air around her face.

"Exquisite Christine" I whispered, shielding my bright eyes a second too late before she saw the drunken passion and desire in them that were so repulsive to her, dropping once more into my chair. "How many more souls will you destroy before that childishness in you is satisfied"

"Is this punishment of cruelty meted out in full, Erik?" She suddenly demanded, her raised tone causing my brows to quirk in sardonic surprise. 

I mused thoughtfully, "Punishment for the crossing of a certain boundary, trespass" 

"Do you wish to see if I could stand till the end, to now prove myself worthy of the love that I had foolishly cast away, until we both prove ourselves fools?" She choked; I was starting to cry myself -that hateful, ever-ready tears that had always succumbed to her weeping - I stood up for again, immediately, ignoring the dull stab of pain that accompanied the sudden, upward movement and strode to the mantel, gripping its edges tightly. I did not give a care for the physical pain anymore, not when all that was within rotted. 

"So I see that you are now a pilgrim and a steadfast devotee to my shrine of darkness -"

Christine had not asked me to stop those cutting words, that deference to my anger was now the penance she thought she was worthily paying. 

"I knew a simply apology would not have sufficed with you," She now knelt sobbing openly next to that empty chair, that profession of worship for naught. "What must I doI left the de Chagny estatebut you will not listen, is it enough for you to understand that the love you gave me is no longer rejected and now reciprocated!"

"What do you know of love, Christine," I spat in anger and anguish, "Except for the night you promised yourself to that boy on the opera roof!" 

She gasped, her hands at her throat. "You knewyou knew all along"

"It is after all, my home; the happenings of which I pride myself on knowing, my dear."

"Oh god, you knewand you let me go with him"

"My dear, self-castigation and flagellation are truly out of fashionperhaps your show would be more convincing with leather whips and spikes" Hypocrite! Was I not castigating myself as I spoke, for twisting her innocence? "Spare me your pity Christine! The beast changes his behaviour not, if such uncivilised behaviour is all the proof you need to remind yourself of the noble life the Vicomte will offer you, then so be it! Have I given you now reason enoughhave I played the role of the cantankerous monster enough so as to assure you there is truly no loss for the absence of that father and angel you think you need even when you share your marriage bed with that boy!" 

The triumph I thought I should have felt was never there to begin with - I sickened even myself and knew, in that instant she looked up at me with clearer eyes, that I had betrayed too much. 

It was a long moment before any of us spoke again. 

And right before my eyes, with her innocence making her the teacher and I, the cynical, world-weary pupil who wrestled those bonds of enslavement free as the sun melted into the horizon, as the night faded into day, that most convenient mishap of her arrival transformed this unexpected end into the finest hour we ever lived through. 

**********

_Christine -_

I reeled; this conversation was all too reminiscent of the conversation that had risen frantically while Raoul was in the torture chamberthe unexpected blow of his rejection had placed me in silent torment as I knelt by his empty chair, dizzyingly gazing at the cold gestures of his, despairing that I might have been truly left with nothing. 

But he had averted his eyes quickly, not before I saw their mismatched colours darken with anger, betrayal and leashed desirehe still thought of me as that wilting flower, and I silently wished to dash away that father figure that he assumed as a check against his own raging passion - the chaste relationship of father and child had comforted me then; it was merely a façade now; the familiar fear which had accompanied me in my early days with Erik was tiny now and I found nothing in my choked voice to verbalise the need that I have, that need that had grown to the proportion that mirrored his, not knowing how to say that the gap of child and woman had been bridged - completed! - when we last kissed. 

I wiped my face carelessly at his last outburst, shocked into silence, at that lone, desperate thought which ran through my head resurfaced alarminglyit brought a fiery blush but I needed to knowit was my trump card, and our salvationHe wanted me now, and had expected me to flee once morethe different that now lay therein was that I wanted him tooto make him realise it called for an action I did not know I was brave enough to execute. 

I carried surprise on my side, that precious commodity so rare to surface with Erik, and I walked up to him and with surprisingly steady hands brought his head downwards, locking his lips with mine the second time within the span of a day, moving my hands down his shaking body with great incredulity. That fuelling ire was broken and I rejoiced in dredging out the man who could love so much, yet knew so little love in his lifetimehe triumphed where I was shamed as he let me go with Raoul, the indication of a better, superior lovemine was but a shadow and now the reward was simply, all of Erik, yet the greatest victory remained the equal portion I knew I was finally able to give back to him.

"Stay your hands, Christine," He tried to pull away, but I now yearned to tear that near unbreakable self-control that still held him captive. In that tight, vise-like grip I would not let him go until we fell onto the floor with a great thud, neither of us feeling the pain. 

The exquisite contact was temporarily broken, his mellifluous voice a fleeting caress which made me want to beg for more.

"What are you, Christine? Wraith, child, angelthat you stir my anger and monstrosity, making gaze on my on acts with revulsion but for a little while yet hold my eternal devotion in those small hands? That I, tried to force that small fraction of your willing heart larger with my own mad passion" He lay unmoving thereafter for a long while, needing to look at me for another confirmation before he kissed me of his own initiation, before he carried me into my room and laid me on the bed with great sadness in his movements. I cried out involuntarily from the pain that still lingered at the back of my head from Raoul's blow; I felt him stiffen with shock when he insisted on probing that injury with his fingers. 

"That boy did this?" He grated out harshly. 

I could not answer in a way that would not provoke his rage; instead I shook my head.

"It is nothing, Erikplease, let it go."

He sighed in turn and I saw that he was now as lost as I had initially felt. 

"Where is that joy, my love?" I murmured, needing the knowledge that he was content with what I was doing, trusting now in his amoral nature to respond as I hoped he would, to catalyse the metaphysical inevitability of our joining. His hands had not let go of mine; encouraged, I pulled him to lay beside me

"I expected death, my angel," He wept brokenly, "but you returned and I do not know what is real anymore"

I wept with him, devastated at the ruin I had caused. "It is only an illusion when you wake up alone" I wanted to unmask him at all levels, and proceeded with the exterior with no more fear and tremblingthe leap of joy my heart took when he did not resist! 

His fluid movements that followed the exhausting peaks and troughs now belied and overwhelmed his inexperience in the arts of seduction, that simple trail of kisses he placed on my neck fabricated a tale on my skin as ancient as the folklores of Persia he narrated nearly a lifetime earlier. His supremacy was complete, a domination of earthly touches that could only be Erik which I heartily now welcomed; the girl who only turned woman belatedly in his caresses celebrating that strange return home. 

He had strewn my precious rose petals around my room in a lover's mad rage, but we lay among these petals now, the careless sensuality of the scene was replete with sated desire, fitting enough to sooth the tormented of most souls and exorcise the evillest of demons. 

I did not want to be apart from him, not even in death. 


End file.
